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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221934">The Silver Dollar Saloon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MallowAtomica/pseuds/MallowAtomica'>MallowAtomica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Voyager's Lower Decks [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Voyager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Western, Gen, Holodecks/Holosuites, Lower Decks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:41:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MallowAtomica/pseuds/MallowAtomica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember in Worst Case Scenario, when Janeway asked for a Western themed holonovel? Here's the story of how she got it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Voyager's Lower Decks [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827733</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Silver Dollar Saloon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><a href="https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Brooks_(Ensign)">Ensign Brooks</a> at Memory Alpha<br/><a href="https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Golwat">Ensign Golwat</a> at Memory Alpha<br/><a href="https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Ryson">Ensign Ryson</a> at Memory Alpha and <a href="https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Unnamed_USS_Voyager_command_division_personnel?file=Female_relief_helm_officer%2C_2374.jpg"> in my head</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Ryson to Paris."</p><p>"Phoebe! Are you there? What do you think?"</p><p>"As your beta player, I think it's excellent. As your fellow conn officer, I also think it's excellent, because the Captain might give me your job when Tuvok puts you out an airlock."</p><p>Paris rolled his eyes, despite his friend not being able to see him. "Tuvok had his chance. The Captain gave him this prompt six months ago! Who do you have down there with you, anyway? Renlay?"</p><p>"No," Ryson snorted. "She says it's too, quote, 'ye olde timey' for her. Eleanor and Arlil are coming down in a bit."</p><p>"Great! Tell them I really want to hear what they think of it."</p><p>"I'll send them either to Sickbay or the brig, depending on where you end up. Ryson out."</p><p>Paris was sure he heard a snicker as the comm link disconnected.</p><p>-----</p><p>Ensign Ryson grinned as she surveyed her surroundings. She had meant what she said to Paris - the program was excellent. Ramshackle wooden buildings lined a dusty street. Horses were tethered here and there, some of them drinking from crude troughs. The long, plain dresses worn by the female passersby weren't particularly appealing, but the men wore costumes that included absurdly large hats, some sort of leather leg armour, and dangerous looking ballistic hand weapons carried in elaborate holsters. Ryson was definitely planning to wear the male costume when she participated in a full playthrough. </p><p>No, Ryson reflected, the scenery and the background characters were fine. It was the NPCs that were going to land Tom Paris in trouble. Case in point: A young, open faced Asian man stood on the porch of a store with a sign identifying it as 'Kim's Dry Goods and Miscellany'. The man was making friendly conversation with a half-Klingon, half-human woman wearing a dowdy looking dress and a wide brimmed straw hat. She carried a basket filled with what appeared to be chicken eggs. As Ryson watched, the two were joined by a chubby figure with multicolored spots and a heavy leather apron. A yellow arrow flashed above his head, accompanied by the caption "Neelix, blacksmith", indicating that he could provide Ryson with an optional side quest. She was considering starting a conversation with him when the holodeck doors opened.</p><p>"This is great! I've never been in a Western program! What can we do here? Is that animal a horse? Renlay Sharr told me that people used to ride on them! She seemed to think that was a bad thing, but I would love to try it! Do you that think horse riding will be an event in this program?" </p><p>Eleanor Brooks and Arlil Golwat had entered the holodeck thirty meters or so beyond Kim's Dry Goods and Miscellany. Brooks was looking around with interest, studying the storefronts and the people on the sidewalks while her Bolian companion voiced her every thought in the extroverted fashion common in her culture. As Ryson approached, Golwat was pointing out the three figures on the porch of Harry Kim's store and wondering out loud why Neelix hadn't told her he would be coming to the holodeck when she talked to him earlier, and had begun to follow that up with some questions about how he had changed into his costume so quickly. Brooks interrupted the flow of words to call a greeting to Ryson, and another, louder greeting to her shipmates down the street. She frowned a little when they didn't respond. She drew a breath, preparing for a second try.</p><p>"Don't bother," said Ryson, "They're NPCs. We're the only living beings in here."</p><p>All three women turned to look more closely at the holographic representations of their shipmates. Brooks chuckled. "I can't believe Torres gave Tom permission to put her in a costume like that."</p><p>Ryson shook her head. "She didn't."</p><p>"What?" Brooks was shocked. "She's going to beat him to a pulp!"</p><p>"Maybe not", said Golwat. "No one gave their permission to be in Insurrection Alpha, after all, and everyone thought that it was fantastic. I think that B'Elanna played it two or three times. Even the Captain liked it, and she got vaporized, didn't she? Or just shot? I can't remember exactly, it's been a long time since I played it. But I know that she thought it was a good program, that's why she wanted Tuvok to write more."</p><p>Ryson shrugged. "Insurrection Alpha was different. But never mind that now, you guys haven't seen the best part. Come on." She led her friends across the street, to a large plank building. It had an open doorway partially covered by odd little doors that swung on hinges. A sign above the doors read 'The Silver Dollar Saloon'. Ryson pushed at the doors and slid between them, somewhat awkwardly. Brooks and Golwat followed close behind.</p><p>The floor was dirt, covered in sawdust and more dirt. A crude wooden counter ran along one wall. The room was otherwise empty. </p><p>"Oh, Tom hasn't finished the transition here yet, we have to load it manually," said Ryson. "Computer, render detailed interior, Silver . . . uh . . . oh, damn, what's it called?"</p><p>"Computer, render detailed interior, Silver Dollar Saloon," Golwat commanded cheerfully.</p><p>The room was promptly furnished and filled with people. Both the furniture and the people were scruffy. Regardless of gender, everyone wore the same type of costume Ryson had admired on the men outside. Patrons leaned against the bar, sipping beverages, or sat around grubby looking tables. Weird, tinny music came from a piano variant in the back of the room. "That's, that's . . . " Brooks was laughing too hard to complete her sentence. "Yep," smirked Ryson, "That's the EMH on . . . whatever that instrument is. Tom is tending bar, of course, and there's Commander Chakotay having a drink. But this part is my personal favorite." She pointed to a large, battered table in the center of the room. Five chairs were pulled up to the table. Three were occupied by the black and silver 3D outlines that indicated spots for player-characters. In the fourth was a big, fierce looking human male with a scraggly beard and yellow teeth. In the fifth was Captain Kathryn Janeway.</p><p>Brooks was a seasoned graduate of Starfleet Academy and Golwat was a former rebel and freedom fighter, but their status as mature adults didn't stop either of them from emitting actual squeals of glee at the sight of their captain in a cowboy outfit. Holo-Janeway fixed them with a death glare worthy of Real-Janeway. Ryson hastily ordered the computer to freeze the program. The three friends drew closer for a more detailed inspection.</p><p>"Look at her hat!" exclaimed Brooks, poking at it a little tentatively. </p><p>Golwat, not tentative at all, was bending right down near the Captain's hip to study her pistol. "Is this her weapon, her gun? How does it work?"</p><p>"It shoots small pieces of metal," Ryson explained.</p><p>Golwat looked doubtful. "They must not go very fast."</p><p>"No, they, there's, well, I don't know all the exact details. But there's a small, contained explosion in one end, caused by friction and powdered fuel of some type, and the force propels the metal projectile out of a tube at a high rate of speed. They used to cause gruesome injuries."</p><p>Brooks frowned. "This is the 19th century, right? I thought guns weren't invented until the 20th."</p><p>Ryson thought for a minute. "No," she said, "I did a French Revolution holonovel last year, that was in the 1780s or 90s, and they definitely had guns. Besides, it's not like Tom to get historical details wrong."</p><p>"Right," smirked Brooks. "He wants everyone to think he's a carrate party boy but Megan Delaney told me all he does in his spare time is drink chocolate milk and read history books."</p><p>Meanwhile, Golwat had crawled practically underneath the table and was investigating holo-Janeway's feet. She made a little noise of excitement. Her friends swiftly joined her on the floor. "Look at these boots," she breathed.</p><p>The boots were high in the heel and pointed in the toe, made from burnished mahogany leather. Unlike the scratched and battered boots worn by the other characters, holo-Janeway's boots were spotlessly clean. The leather gleamed softly in the diffuse light. The three officers gazed at them in awe for a moment. "How high up do they go?" whispered Brooks. Ryson shrugged, mumbled a quick, " 'scuse me, Captain", and gently pulled Janeway's pants leg up. The boots reached to mid-calf and were covered in elaborate decorative patterns stitched in gold thread. </p><p>"I would wear those!" gasped Golwat. "I don't mean only on the holodeck, I mean that I would wear those on shore leave and to holiday parties!" </p><p>"How many replicator rations do you think they would cost?" wondered Brooks.</p><p>A short pause.</p><p>"You two know we're acting weird, right?" laughed Ryson.</p><p>Brooks giggled. Ryson let go of Janeway's pants. Everyone scrambled out from under the table.</p><p>"I hereby invoke the Holodeck Prime Directive," intoned Ryson in a mock-serious voice.</p><p>They all raised their right hands, as if taking an oath.</p><p>"This directive takes precedence over any and all other considerations, and carries with it the highest moral obligation," she continued.</p><p>"What happens on the holodeck, stays on the holodeck," said all three in unison.</p><p>Brooks giggled again.</p><p>"But, Phoebe, I still don't understand why you think that people are going to be angry with Paris." Golwat waved a slender blue hand at holo-Janeway. "The Captain has a good sense of humor, and she is the one who asked for a Western holonovel. The Doctor will try to turn himself into a Western-style music star. B'Elanna will be irritated with Paris but she will get revenge on him in some probably hilarious way. No one is going to be seriously annoyed."</p><p>"Consider this," said Ryson. "Which senior officer have we not yet seen? It's not our new Borg friend," she added quickly. "She's running the Circle Nine cattle ranch south of town."</p><p>Golwat frowned in concentration.</p><p>Brooks counted on her fingers. "Ho shit," she said. "What has Tom done to him?"</p><p>Ryson shook her head. "He doesn't enter the story until after we've started the action. Come on, I've got us set up to play as the antagonists, we'll see him sooner that way." She pointed to the black and silver placeholder holos. "Have a seat. We start by playing poker."</p><p>Golwat spoke up. "I don't know how to play poker."</p><p>Her human friends gaped at her in astonishment. "You've served on Voyager for three years! How do you not know how to play poker?" demanded Ryson.</p><p>"I can teach you," said Brooks, before Golwat could begin an excessively detailed explanation. She directed a pointed look at holo-Janeway's feet. "I need the replicator rations."</p><p>"Never mind, never mind!" Ryson held her hands up in a 'just stop please' gesture. "I'll get Tom to put in a cheat code or something in case there's someone else on this ship who doesn't know how to play poker." Her expression indicated that she found this to be unlikely in the extreme. "For now, I'll just skip us ahead." She cleared her throat. "So. I'm the main bad lady. You two are my underlings. We all play poker for a while. Eventually, I realize that Yellow Teeth here is cheating. Then I get a choice to shoot him with my gun, kick him in the knee, or punch him in the face. It doesn't matter which, it all makes a lot of commotion, there are people yelling and stuff. The noise attracts the attention of a local law enforcement officer, who just happens to be passing by." She paused. The others nodded their understanding. "Okay, we'll start right after I confront Yellow Teeth." Ryson stood up. "Computer, skip to action fork 1. Assume 'punch him in the face' option and resume playback."</p><p>The scene shifted. Yellow Teeth lay sprawled on his back next to the now-overturned card table. Holo-Janeway was discreetly backing away from the action. Various saloon patrons were screaming. The odd little half doors swung open and a man strode through. A broad shouldered, dark skinned man whose enormous cowboy hat managed to not conceal his pointed ears. "Yee haw," he announced in an even, measured voice. "I am Sheriff Tuvok of Vulcan County. It appears as if a ruckus has occurred in this here saloon."</p><p>Gales of laughter from the two humans.</p><p>Golwat looked confused. "I think I am missing some cultural context."</p><p>"I can provide the cultural context." The Sheriff of Vulcan County gave Golwat a rather beady stare. "One of you fillies done punched this here gentleman in the face and therefore I am madder than a wet hen." He hesitated. "Y'all."</p><p>Brooks was now laughing hard enough to make her wheeze, so Ryson assumed the role of cultural educator. "It's like. Well." She looked somewhat embarrassed. "Imagine Tuvok talking like a Vulcan but also like a bad stereotype of a Bolian hair dresser."</p><p>"That is not funny", said Golwat. Her lips quirked alarmingly as she attempted to hold back a smile.</p><p>"You are darn tooting, madam," confirmed the Sheriff of Vulcan County. "I am fixing to confine all of you in the hoosegow."</p><p>Golwat couldn't help herself. She made the choked snorting sound common to all humanoids who are on the verge of failing to restrain laughter. The snort set Ryson to laughing again. Brooks could no longer even wheeze. Her mouth flapped open and closed as she vainly tried to suck in air. Golwat gave a second, much louder, snort and then completely lost control. Soon all three officers were clutching their sides and wiping away tears. Brooks was drooling a little.</p><p>"Your merriment is as illogical as tits on a boar hog," stated the Sheriff of Vulcan County.</p><p>-----</p><p>B'Elanna Torres slammed the micro-lathe back into the tool kit. "This thing is as useless as tits on a boar hog!"</p><p>-----</p><p>Jenny Delaney scowled at her sister. "Meg, this data makes as much sense as tits on a boar hog!"</p><p>-----</p><p>Harry Kim sighed over his meal tray. "And then," he said to Lt. Ayala. "She looked at me like I was as stupid as tits on a boar hog."</p><p>Captain Janeway glanced over at Kim, then back to her own dinner companion. "Tits?" she mouthed soundlessly. Chakotay grinned. "On a boar hog", he replied, very quietly.</p><p>"I've been hearing that saying all over the ship lately," Janeway leaned forward. "I understand what it means in context, but," she shook her head, baffled. "Where did it come from?"</p><p>Chakotay sipped his tea reflectively. "I suspect it might have something to do with a deleted beta version of the Silver Dollar Saloon holonovel. Of course, I can't exactly ask anyone."</p><p>Janeway nodded sagely. "Holodeck Prime Directive. What happens on the holodeck . . . "</p><p>". . . stays on the holodeck," her first officer finished along with her.</p><p>The two shared a smile.</p><p>"Speaking of the Silver Dollar," continued Janeway. "Did you notice the boots Golwat and Brooks were wearing at the Prixin party?"</p><p>"Can't say I did."</p><p>"Hmmmmm." She reached for one of the PADDs next to her dinner tray.</p><p>Chakotay looked concerned. "Why? Is there a problem?"</p><p>"No, no." Janeway said, absently. "Just trying to remember how many replicator rations I have left in my account."</p>
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